


The Eye of the Storm

by SpideychelleCarwheelerTrash



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Canon, F/M, Oneshot, canon imagined, first touch, on the boat to england
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-07-01 00:15:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15762666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpideychelleCarwheelerTrash/pseuds/SpideychelleCarwheelerTrash
Summary: From the moment he sees her, Phillip can feel the sparks; he doesn't need to be told twice that Anne Wheeler is the perfect storm.





	The Eye of the Storm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kagee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kagee/gifts).



> Requested by @kage-e on Tumblr!

The moment he saw her, Phillip felt the beginnings of it– a magnetic force, one that bound him to the woman hurtling towards him through the air on a trapeze.

As she swung closer to her, he could feel the air between them warm up. Electricity seemed to crackle over his skin, sending chills down Phillip’s back even through his jacket. He was frozen in place by its current as everything else– the crowd, the lights, the awed gasps– fell away completely. There was no sound but the blood rushing in his ears, no view that could have possibly persuaded him to tear his gaze away from the deep brown eyes that were locked with his own. If he looked hard enough, he could see flecks of gold in them, the same hue as the shine of the spotlight whose light seemed to make every inch of her skin glow.

And her arms were reaching for him, outstretched, closing the distance between them.

Just when every inch of his body was ready, aching for her touch, the woman on the trapeze began to swing the other way. Immediately, Phillip could feel the current between them fall away as if strings pulling them towards one another had been cut. As the invisible threads fell slack around them, Phillip could still feel the ache in his chest.

“Who is that?” he found himself murmuring, lips moving without his permission. Who was that, and what would exactly would the brush of her fingers feel like against his skin?

The first part of Phillip’s question was answered only a few moments later when he was introduced to her by a smirking Barnum. Her name was Anne, Phillip learned. Anne Wheeler, one half of a trapeze duo that had been spellbinding Barnum’s audiences for weeks… And he could see why. Did they all feel the same way as he did around her? Did their skin beg for her touch, their eyes follow her without permission, their ears thrill at the sound of her self-assured words?

And even if all of this was true, did they find her staring back at them for a moment too long, with a lingering gaze and slightly parted lips?

Perhaps it was an infatuation, Phillip assured himself at first. After all, that was part of the reason Barnum’s show drew in so many people. The lights, the shocking feats, the magic of it all was something that was supposed to make people feel. But if that were true, a deeper part of him argued, then that current that pulled him towards Anne Wheeler would not intensify when he passed her backstage, dressed in shabby practice clothing and with an old shawl thrown around her shoulders. He would not have found her just as alluring when he saw her natural hair for the first time, loose brown curls spilling over her shoulders as she argued passionately with her brother over the safety of a stunt. As weeks passed, it became more and more clear that this was no infatuation.

As weeks passed, Phillip only found himself longing more for her touch.

But no matter how long the stares lingered, Phillip could not find a way to approach her while she was by herself. Of course, when they spoke in groups together occasionally, and every time he found himself drawn in further by her quick wit and her passion. The first time he heard her laugh, in response to some whispered comment from her brother, Phillip felt the longing intensify. Every little movement, every word, every perfectly executed spiral through the air only drew him in further. And the closer he got, the more persistent the longing became.

And then, suddenly, they were on a ship to England, and an opportunity steered him in her direction, for the first time, alone.

It was nighttime, and Phillip had been leaving Barnum’s first class cabin on the upper deck, more discouraged than he had come. The topic of their conversation had been the rest of the troupe, all of whom were traveling in steerage while Barnum and Phillip’s own cabins were first-class. The conditions were miserable, as Phillip well knew since he had spent the first day of their journey down below, trying to see to it that their troupe members had everything they needed. He had found it necessary to make several trips upstairs to even fetch water for them, and when he tried to dole it out they had been met with other passengers making grabs for the drink.

And still, Barnum insisted on the bloody first class.

Phillip had been returning to the lower decks, hoping to at least bring a few of the women to the upper decks, where the harassment wouldn’t be quite so bad. In particular, he was worried about Lettie, whose appearance had been causing her to say surrounded by the others to avoid rude treatment. It was as he walked across the upper deck in the moonlight that a shadowy figure caught the corner of his eye, and when he turned his head he recognized the slender figure that he had grown accustomed to seeing shooting through the air.

She wasn’t allowed on the upper deck… But then, Phillip wasn’t exactly complaining.

His legs were moving before he even thought about it, quietly carrying him across the first class deck and closer to her. His steps were relatively silent as he stepped forward, masked by the crashing of the waves far below and the nighttime breeze. It was for this reason that he was able to approach to about three feet away from her, and Anne’s body still tensed when he commented, “I wasn’t expecting to see you up here, Miss Wheeler.”

The woman whirled around immediately, and Phillip’s slightly amused blue eyes collided with startled brown irises in a stare that raised goose pimples on his arms. At first, she appeared genuinely startled, with her lips fallen apart in surprise and alarm written into every corner of her face. Then, he watched as she slowly composed herself. Anne Wheeler did not relax, per se– something in him wondered if either of them would ever be able to really relax in the presence of the other.

Can one be truly at ease in the eye of a storm?

However, she did manage to regain control of her face, and after glancing at him for a moment, she pursed her lips and began to speak. “That was the point,” came her dry response as she pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders, facing him. She was dressed in a simple blouse and skirt, both rather threadbare. The clothing that she normally kept neat, if modest, was wrinkled and stained. Phillip knew why; his own clothing looked rather the same, after spending the day in steerage. And he had the refuge of his cabin to return to– there was nothing for Anne.

“Are you going to herd me down below again?” She seemed to be attempting to feign nonchalance, but he could see the dread in her face even so.

Phillip’s heart panged as he thought about exactly how miserable this voyage was for her, even out of all of the oddities. Her day had been much worse than his, he knew. The women were given no privacy and were surrounded on all sides by people. Phillip had seen W.D. moving to pull her closer to the center of the huddle of performers when a particularly vulgar-looking man was leering at her, and he had seen Anne tugging the shawl close even in the crowded room. At some point, someone had pulled her hair loose of her bun against her will, and Phillip had been too far away to stop it. Even now, her hair was loose and messy. He was not blind; he had seen people touching her against her will, spitting slurs at her and her brother. And no matter how hard Phillip tried, there was no way to stop all of it.

She was in love with the open air, nothing but space beneath her feet as she flew like a bird. And she had been trapped below all day, surrounded on all sides by enemies. She was a soldier in No Man’s Land. Yes, it was Phillip’s job to see to it that they didn’t make a spectacle of themselves, but he wouldn’t make her return there. Not yet.

He pretended to think about it before turning to lean against the railing, gazing out to sea from a few paces away. “No, I don’t think so,” he murmured, his brow furrowed as he watched the silver light play on the white peaks that stretched before them. “If my assumptions are correct, neither of us is ready to go back down there.”

Phillip kept his gaze forward, pretending that he didn’t see her visible release of tension as she turned back towards the water. “Normally, I would say that you shouldn’t make assumptions, but I’ll make an exception this time. I’m pretty sure there are several circles of Hell preferable to that place.”

Phillip couldn’t help it then. His laughter was quiet, but it was enough to turn her head in his direction. He raised an eyebrow at her as he turned to face her, and Phillip caught the gleam of pleasure swimming in the glistening depths of her eyes. “The worst part is, I’ve been to worse parties.”

It was her turn to grin, shaking her head slightly as she turned back to sea. The smile was a small one, but Phillip had put it there, and that was enough. “I find that hard to believe,” she hummed. “Granted, I’ve never been to a party.”

Phillip wasn’t surprised, exactly. He had a vague idea of Anne’s past… There had been concern about taking the shows to certain areas due to missing paperwork, and that explained all that Phillip needed to know. So, he did not raise an eyebrow or appear the least bit taken aback. Instead, he hummed, “You’re not missing much, Miss Wheeler. Most of the time, I used to down a few flutes of champagne so the conversation wouldn’t be quite as boring.”

From beside him, Anne let out a soft puff of amusement. “I’ll have to take your word for it, Mr. Carlye.”

Before he could stop himself, he found himself correcting her. “It’s Phillip, actually, if you don’t mind.”

She arched an eyebrow, peering over at him through her messy curls. He felt a pang in his chest at the thought of the coarse hands that had seen fit to think of intruding on her space in such a vile manner, and his breath caught in his throat. Before he could follow the train of thought too far, however, she replied, “Only if you call me Anne.”

A slight grin crossed his lips as he nodded, slowly. “Alright… Anne.”

She quickly glanced away from him, and Phillip could have sworn he saw some rosy undertones in her cheeks. But maybe it was a trick of the moonlight… Then she ran a hand through her hair, and Phillip watched as her eyes traced the line where the sea met the sky. “How many more days left?” Her query sent another pang through his torso, and as she regarded his expression, he knew it showed. “I see,” she commented before he could spin any niceties. “I think I’d prefer that party.”

Her quick comment caused him to crack a slightly lopsided grin. “Well…” he hummed, moving to push himself off the railing. She watched him with an astute, piercing gaze as he stood and offered his hand to her. “Let’s have one, then. Come on, I’ll show you how to dance at one.”

Anne arched an eyebrow, and she pursed her lips as she watched his antics. Still, Phillip could tell she was slightly flustered… Her fingers played with a loose thread on her shawl, and she blinked repeatedly before answering. “You’re making fun of me, Mr. Carlyle.”

“Philip,” he corrected again, offering her a playful grin. “And on the contrary, I am testing you. I want to see if your grace on the ground matches your skills in the air.”

“I shouldn’t.” Her words were quiet, careful, and solemn. He winced, running a hand through his hair before extending the other to her.

“Why not?”

“It’s inappropriate.”

“So is your being up here, and you don’t seem to mind.”

“That’s different, Mr. Car- Phillip.”

“Why?”

In response to his question, conflicted brown eyes narrowed slightly. Phillip held his breath as the silence stretched between them, electric. For a moment, with the boat swaying beneath them, it felt like the whole world was dropping away again, just like the first time he had seen her. Neither moved, and Phillip barely breathed.

“Because if I dance with you, there’s a lot more to lose.” The words were soft and slightly breathless, and they caused Phillip’s heart to bottom out entirely for a few beats. “Goodnight, Mr. Carlyle.”

“Wait–”

Anne began to walk away, pushing off the railing and walking towards the overhang that led to the staircase. As she approached him, however, the stern of the ship crashed over a particularly large wave. The ocean spray was tossed through the air, and the deck pitched beneath them. Anne, who had just been passing him, stumbled, and Phillip reached out instinctively to catch her. One hand found her elbow and the other found her waist, and then her shoulder thudded into his chest as she stumbled.

It was only as the wave settled that he realized he was touching her.

Anne’s hands were clutching his bicep with strong, calloused fingers, and he could feel their roughened texture through his thin shirt sleeve. The sharp smell of lemon and laundry soap overpowered the scent of stale sweat that clung to both of them, and it was something so distinctly Anne Wheeler that it sent Phillip’s head spinning. He could hear her breath, sharp and ragged, from next to his ear as they stood there, for a moment, so close that Phillip could feel the sparks.

There was an electric storm raging around them, and Phillip and Anne were in the eye of it all.

The moment could have gone on forever, with Phillip drinking in her touch– the first touch he had ever shared with her, he realized. But the wave was settling, and after a moment Anne released her hold on his arm. “Goodnight, Mr. Carlyle,” came her whisper, breathless and slightly raspy. She would not look in his eye, and as she pulled away she did not glance over her shoulder. Philip did not resist as she began to walk away from him, only struggled to breathe himself and followed her with his gaze.

Just as she reached the overhang, Phillip managed to find his words. “Miss Wheeler?” he called, his voice carried along to her by the night breeze.

For a moment, she froze, and then he watched as her form turned around. Even from a distance, Phillip could see the water droplets from the wave that had nestled in her hair, weighing down the dark curls slightly and making them obey the laws of gravity just this once. He watched as she hesitated, clearly trying to decide whether or not to turn around again. Finally, she bit her lip, shook her head, and muttered a wary, “What?”

Phillip allowed a hint of a grin onto his lips, genuine and playful and warm despite the nighttime chill.

“Think you can manage to find your way back without falling?”

Her eyes widened slightly, but there was a gleam in them anyhow as she retorted, “I can manage a lot of things, Carlyle, such as making it through the day without having my shirt buttoned wrong the whole time.”

Phillip’s eyes widened as he looked down at his shirt. Sure enough, he had done the buttons wrong, just enough so that it lay funnily beneath his vest… And if he was just noticing it now, it must have been that way from the moment he had buttoned it in the dark cabin that morning, all the way through their conversation

He opened his mouth to retort, but before Phillip could get out a word, she was smirking at him and he was silent. “Goodnight, Carlye,” she finally hummed, turning over her shoulder and walking away with a little bit more confidence than he had seen her possess all day down below. Perhaps Phillip should have followed her, or called after and asked her to stay. However, as the night air cooled his warm cheeks, Philip decided that he was alright, for now.

He was content, for the time being, with a moment spent in the eye of the perfect storm that was Anne Wheeler.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to make request, get info on fic updates, or influence what I write, I recommend using Tumblr. I am able to be more active there thanks to the mobile app, so I will be able to get to you a lot faster!


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